Promise

All summer long, this beauty was concealed,
But, now, it is revealed….
An oriole’s nest!
Through sunny hours, leaves hid
This work of art,
But, now, my heart
Is glad at sight of it.
Let winter come, however long;
Although the feathered choisters
All have flown,
I, who have known
Their silver-throated melody,
Now find as potent as a song
This promise of another spring
They have bequeathed to me,
Suspended charmingly, high in my old elm tree!

FARM JOURNAL & FARMER’S WIFE